


Deliverance

by tricksterity



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Jötunn Loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 03:08:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1535315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tricksterity/pseuds/tricksterity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of attempting to commit genocide, Loki decides to head to Jötunheim to discover more about his Jötunn heritage. Thanks to Frigga's gentle attempts at changing his views of the frost giants, Loki knows that they are not mindless monsters, and goes to seek answers and - possibly - his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deliverance

**Author's Note:**

> I adore Jötunn!Loki so much I can't believe it's taken me this long to write this. Jötunn!Loki/the Jötnar are based off [this fanart](http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/363/0/f/jotun_loki_by_alexzoe-d5p7wf7.jpg)

Loki felt the cold seep up his arm, turning his skin from smooth white into scarred, forbidden blue. Not the black that overtook Volstagg, but a blue that did not hurt, that felt so terrifyingly _right_ that Loki panicked and slit the throat of the Jötunn who stared back at him with equal confusion.

The rest of the fight he fought in a daze, instinct coming quickly as mother had taught him (was she really his mother?) but soon enough they were running, Thor left behind like the moron he was to get away from the beast that was chasing them. Then Thor killed it, then Odin arrived, then Odin banished Thor without a thought to Loki who tried to intervene, silenced like always. Loki hadn’t meant for Thor’s punishment to be so severe, but perhaps his brother could find the humility he sorely needed among the humans.

Loki returned to his chambers with a final word to the Warriors Three, and stared at his hands. Long fingered, pale, spider’s hands, able to bend and switch reality with a movement and a flicker. White-skinned, not blue, yet not the golden of Asgard. 

Yet the blue had creeped up them all the same, feeling like dirt was being washed away from his skin and he was being cleaned and purified for the first time in his life. When it disappeared, it felt like he’d dipped his hand into mud and allowed it to turn to clay around his flesh, and Loki had never felt uncomfortable in his own skin before.

There was only one way to get answers.

Loki didn’t exactly need a reason to get into the Vault, and the guards let him past as soon as they saw him approach. At the very end of the room, right in his line of sight, sat the Casket of Winters. He remembered how he and Thor had been taken to it as younglings, hundreds of years ago now, by Odin and were told the tale of how they had wiped out the Frost Giants’ armies, laid waste to their kingdom and had taken the Casket from them. Loki wondered if it wasn’t the only thing they took. 

Now as he approached it, he could feel a singing in his blood, like the calling of winter to his bones. He didn’t hesitate in taking hold of the Casket, feeling the ice creep up his arms, turning his skin from Asgardian to Jötunn, smooth to scarred and raised. It continued upwards, spreading up his chest and neck to consume his face, and Loki felt like he could breathe for the first time in his life. His breath was icy before him, and it was a sensation similar to bursting from the surface of the ocean after one had held their breath for far too long.

He felt free.

And it was terrifying.

“Stop!” a familiar voice called out, and Loki placed the Casket gently back onto it’s pedestal, barely noticing the latticework that held back the Destroyer falling back into place. Loki didn’t let go of the Casket before him, reluctantly enjoying the sensation of being able to be himself, no matter how out of place, confused and terrified he felt.

“Am I cursed?” Loki asked, staring into the swirling cerulean depths of the Casket. 

“No. Put the Casket down,” Odin ordered, and Loki felt a muscle in his jaw twitch. His father – _Odin_ – still felt like he could order him around after he’d been lied to his entire life?

“What am I?” Loki asked, turning around to stare at Odin, feeling the blue seep back into whatever Asgardian glamour had been placed upon him by Odin. He saw the shock deep within Odin’s gaze at the sight of his youngest son, and fought back the nasty urge to smirk. 

“You are my son,” Odin insisted, and Loki flared his nostrils in anger.

“What more than that?” he demanded. Odin, instead, looked as though he’d suddenly aged, as his shoulders slumped and his eyes grew weary. Odin was still not able to confess what Loki really was. “The Casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jötunheim that day, was it?” 

“No,” Odin finally said, the admission resounding throughout the Vault like when the base of Gungnir struck the ground, heavy and unquestionable. “In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the Temple, and I found a baby. Small for a giant’s offspring – abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey’s son.”

Loki took a step back in shock, left reeling and like he’d been thrown into the ocean with no land in sight. Some small part of his mind found irony in the admission, how Odin had said when they were younger than they were both born to be kings. Though mainly Loki felt as though his entire universe had been turned upside-down, though logically he knew that nothing had changed outside this room. He was royal by birth, yes, but he was abandoned, not even good enough for the Frost Giants, and now his family was not even his own – Odin, Thor, _Frigga_ …

He vaguely remembered the stories Frigga told him as a child, of the Jötnar being more than beasts, that before the war they had been a great people with a rich culture, history and hierarchy, with mages and priests and warriors and rites of their own. Maybe she had always been preparing him for this in the only way she could, without disobeying their king, her husband.

“Laufey’s son?” Loki stuttered, struggling desperately to make sense of himself and who he was now. “Why? You were knee-deep in Jötunn blood, why would you take me?”

“You were an innocent child,” Odin said, and they didn’t call Loki the god of lies for nothing, he could almost smell the deception coming off Odin, and it made him furious that his not-so father still tried to lie to him.

“You took me for a purpose, what was it?” Loki ground out. Odin didn’t answer. 

“ _Tell me!_ ” Loki screamed, anger, fear, frustration, terror bubbling up and ripping out of his throat in a violent rage.

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace… through you. But those plans no longer matter,” Odin admitted, and Loki snorted self-deprecatingly. That would explain why Odin had never cared for him as he did Thor, he was simply a bargaining chip that he’d give back to Jötunheim like a broken toy to get what he wanted.

“So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me?” Loki asked, wanting to both laugh maniacally and collapse to the ground.

“Why do you twist my words?” Odin asked, as though he was not to blame for any of it.

“You could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn’t you?” Loki asked, wanting answers. Answers that would explain the behaviour he’d had to endure his entire life, something to make the sneers, laughter and shunning worthwhile. 

“You are my son, my blood,” Odin said. “I wanted only to protect you from the truth.” Loki wanted to throw something at him, preferably sharp and pointy.

“Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?” Loki asked, hating the way his voice shook and his vision blurred, remembering the last time he had been in here so long ago when his brother had said _when I’m king, I’m going to hunt the monsters down and slay them all!_

“Don’t-“ Odin tried to protest.

“You know it all makes sense now why you loved Thor all these years,” Loki spat, rage turning his vision red, hatred and anger and insecurity bubbling up inside of him like they’d been wanting to be let out for years. “Because no matter how much you claim to ‘love’ me, you could never have a frost giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!” he sneered, daring Odin to say anything otherwise. Odin opened his mouth, shook, and then fell to the ground, his body falling out of alignment with the universe, eye shutting as he fell deep into the Odinsleep. 

Loki crouched down next to him, shaking at how quickly it had come on, and a little, evil part of his brain whispered that it was incredibly convenient that he fell into the sleep now of all times. Loki called out for the guards, and remained rooted on the steps as the great doors clanged shut behind Odin, staring down at his shaking hands, willing them to stop. 

He finally managed to gather himself enough to leave the room with some semblance of dignity – and sanity – as he walked down the hallways, instinct leading him towards Odin’s chambers. He stepped through the doorway and saw Odin laying under the shield of gold, keeping him in stasis, Frigga clutching his hand gently.

At the sight of her, Loki nearly fell to the floor, knees shaking and weak, the realization that the one person he loved more than anybody wasn’t even his mother. Wasn’t blood, wasn’t relation, wasn’t really his family.

“Mother…” he breathed out, would’ve been inaudible in any other room than this silent grave. “Or do I even have the right to call you that?”

Frigga’s face dropped as she let go of Odin’s hand, _walked away from him_ , and took Loki into her arms, clutching him tight. Loki’s hands curled into fists in the back of her dress, fingers like claws, burying his head into her neck, wishing that it was all some horrible dream, that he didn’t feel uncomfortable in his own skin, that the blue had been but a nightmare, and that he was wanted for more reason than as a bargaining chip.

“Oh, my boy…” Frigga muttered, smoothing a hand over his head, carding fingers through Loki’s hair. “I never wanted you to find out like this.”

“You tried your best,” Loki mumbled, his voice bubbling and breaking as he held back tears. He just wanted to stay where he was and to never let go, to never leave the comfort of his mothers arms, she who had taken him aside as a young man and explained that he could never be a warrior like his brother, but that she could teach him her own tricks. She who taught Loki all of the magic she knew and more, how to fight dirty, trained him day and night for years until he could best her in battle, though she was still better with a sword than he would ever be.

“I knew we should’ve told you, we never should have raised you in the dark, so I tried to make you see that the people of Jötunheim are not what we teach, for history is always written by the victors,” Frigga comforted, and Loki seemed to be able to breathe easier. 

“Is it true? Am I really Laufey’s son?” Loki asked quietly. Frigga only hugged him tighter.

“You are first and foremost _my_ son,” she said sternly. “But yes, the patroglyph markings upon your skin match that of Laufey and his wife, Farbauti.”

“Odin… he said that I had been abandoned,” Loki muttered, clutching his fingers tighter into the back of Frigga’s dress, nearly ripping the fabric. Frigga took a hold of his shoulders and pushed him back slightly so he could see her eyes, hard like steel but still shining with love.

“He should not have said that,” Frigga said sternly. “The Temple was a place of worship for the Jötnar, it was possible that they thought it would be the safest place for you to remain during the war. Your father had no way to tell if you were abandoned, but you would not have survived if he had not taken you.”

“He’s not my father,” Loki hissed, pulling away with a jerk.

“Then am I not your mother?” Frigga asked gently, and sadly. Loki flinched as if he’d been burned, and then gently took Frigga’s hands in his.

“Of course you are,” Loki said. “You never lied to me. Not like he did.” He wanted to say more, but at that point the doors to the chambers opened, and the einherjar entered, holding Gungnir aloft. Loki looked at them, then to the unconscious Odin, and then to the face of his mother, who was smiling softly.

“With Thor banished and Odin asleep, it is up to you to take up the mantle of king,” Frigga said gently. Loki frowned. He had never wanted to be king, no matter what his father told him – it was always clear that Thor would be crowned. Loki didn’t want the throne, didn’t need it, and especially not now. Thor would always be king, but he wasn’t ready, and he wouldn’t be unless he learned to be humble, learned humility, and how those lower than him in status lived – a good king needed compassion. That was why Loki caused the invasion, why Loki insisted Thor go to Jötunheim – he was not ready to be king, and must learn how to be a good one.

“I cannot,” Loki said, pulling away from his mother. “I do not want it.”

“The responsibility falls to you,” Frigga insisted. 

“I have things I must do… things I must understand, about myself and my heritage. You are more than capable of ruling in Odin’s stead, he does not need you by his side at all hours, surely?” Loki asked. “You are Queen of Asgard, nobody is more qualified.”

Frigga stared at him for a few moments, and then gave a small, proud smile as she accepted Gungnir from the guards, who bowed and left the room. Frigga held the kings’ scepter in her hands and gave Loki a mischievous little smile.

“Don’t think I don’t know what plans you’ve been hatching under my nose,” she said cheekily. “I’ve taught you far too well.”

“I didn’t mean for him to get banished,” Loki admitted, “but we all know that Odin wouldn’t abandon him forever. At least, not until Thor is worthy of mjölnir once more. I had planned some tests that would bring out the qualities he needs as king… but I cannot do so from Jötunheim.”

“So you plan to travel there?” Frigga asked, gently resting the base of Gungnir on the ground, the scepter stretching far above her head. 

“I have to learn about my people,” Loki said simply. “You need to rule the realm, and teach Thor what he must learn to take Odin’s place one day.” Frigga smiled gently at him, and then pulled him into a one armed hug.

“I have never been more proud of you, Loki,” Frigga said, pulling back with a teary smile. “And know that whatever you find, know that I will always be your mother.” Loki cupped her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling back with a matching smile.

“Nothing will change that,” Loki said. He turned around to leave the room, and as his hand touched the golden door, he turned around to his mother with a mischievous grin.

“I was planning on sending the Destroyer,” Loki said, and heard Frigga’s laughter as he exited Odin’s chambers and walked down the golden hallways, heading for the Bifröst, making only a single stop on the way. The rainbow bridge was as beautiful as ever, and Heimdall stood ever vigilant at his post, staring out into the universe. 

“You are traveling to Jötunheim again,” Heimdall stated. “It does not seem wise considering the most recent outcome of your travels.”

“I do not go for war,” Loki said, knowing full well that Heimdall did not trust him. It wasn’t Loki’s fault that he’d been a curious child and had found the pathways hidden between the worlds, the branches of Yggdrasil that he could traverse with ease, that Heimdall could not see.

“Very well,” Heimdall said. He activated the Bifröst, and Loki steeled himself for what he may find on the planet that he and his ‘friends’ had just ravaged. He felt the Bifröst take him, and he landed alone on the frozen realm, clad in only leather and metal yet he did not feel the chill. 

The landscape in front of him had been ravaged, broken and destroyed, both from the war and their most recent assault. The Jötnar did not have the Casket, and so they could not rebuild – Loki found that rather unfair. They were forced to live in destroyed squalor while Odin kept their only means of rebuilding locked away in the Vault where it would come to no use – or rather, it had been kept there, and was rather less kept there now.

Loki picked his way throughout the frozen wasteland, following the path that they had taken before, noting that the bodies of the few Jötunn that had been killed had been taken away. Loki frowned, and shoved aside the internalized racism that had been unknowingly built up inside him, knowing that logically the Jötunn must honour their dead in some way. 

He arrived at the huge icy wall that had stopped their party previously, and saw two huge guards seemingly materialize out of the wall, twelve feet in height, menacing and angry. Loki raised his hands in surrender.

“I do not come seeking battle, I come to seek answers,” Loki said.

“Of what?” one of the guards asked.

“My heritage. When Thor forced us into battle earlier, my skin turned to blue when one of yours touched me. I wish to find answers,” Loki said calmly. The second guard frowned, red eyes narrowing as he peered down at Loki.

“A great and powerful glamour takes hold of you, Asgardian. We shall take you to the Queen and see what she thinks of you,” he said. Loki bowed his head in thanks, and allowed himself to be lead through the wall. It was an amazing architectural feat – the wall looked entirely solid from the outside, but pathways had been carved through in such a way that they were only visible from a certain angle, or if one had walked the pathways many times before.

On the other side of the wall was a city like Loki had never seen before. The light ice seamlessly shifted from building to the next, interweaving like frozen vines in between dark rock and shimmering pools, white and leafless trees overarching like protectors, silver and gold interwoven the further away from the wall they traveled and closer to the palace they got. Huge, beautiful and breathtaking, made of almost white ice, with gold and silver vines running throughout the outside, snowflake points jutting out towards the sky, haloed by a second sun. 

Loki had been told as a child that the Jötunn lived in waste. His mother, however, had tried to paint a picture in his head of the splendor of the Jötunn, yet never could he have imagined this.

The people ranged from his height to well over twelve feet, adorned with coloured cloths and jewelry, horns decorated with silver and curled black hair tumbling downwards, interwoven with fine shining chains – only the warriors were bare. 

Children came out of their houses to stare as Loki passed, and he received a multitude of looks from the people – confusion, fear, hatred, awe, curiosity. The city had never been breached in the war, but it seemed to be one of the only true cities left on the frozen realm, as outside the wall was all but chaos, destruction and death.

There were a hundred stairs leading to the palace, dark stone in contrast to the gem-like palace, like a huge cyan diamond that had been carved delicately into the ground. More guards swung the front door open, and the inside was even more luxurious than the outside – the walls were the same bright ice but were still somehow completely opaque. The walls and floor were decorated with tapestries and rugs of gold and purple and blue, with sapphire and emerald flames reflecting light throughout the palace, yet the ice did not melt.

The throne room was massive, with high, arched and carved ceilings of detail so intricate Loki became dizzy just looking at the dazzling structures. At the far end sat two golden chairs, and seated in them, sat Laufey himself and his wife, Farbauti. Laufey, as a warrior, was dressed rather plainly, but his wife (Loki’s mother) was the most brilliant creature he had ever seen. She sat gracefully, clothed in robes of gold and sheer indigo, hair threaded through with golden chains and tiny jewels, to match the chained medallions threaded around her horns and the multitudes of jewelry in her ears, necklaces and rings to match her golden-spun sandals.  
Loki immediately placed a fist over his heart and bowed his head.

“Laufey-king, Farbauti-queen,” he addressed. “I am Loki of Asgard, formerly Loki Odinson of the house of Odin, prince of the realm eternal.” 

“We know who you are,” Laufey rumbled in that deep voice. “You were the voice of reason in the previous skirmish, though you did battle just the same as your companions. Did you not hear my proclamation, Asgardian? We are at war.”

“I did hear, your grace, though I come not to seek battle but knowledge,” Loki said peacefully.

“Why did you announce yourself as the former son of Odin?” Farbauti asked, speaking for the first time. Her voice was calm and collected, with the potential to be warm and loving or cold fury.

“During the skirmish it recently came to my attention that… I was not of Odin’s blood. I am not an Æsir,” Loki said, gripping his hands tightly so they would not shake. It was one thing to admit it to his mother, but to admit it to the king and queen of Jötunheim…

“If you are not of Asgard, what are you?” Laufey asked.

“My Queen, surely you have noticed the glamour that has been wrapped around this Asgardian,” one of the guards said. Farbauti nodded, held a hand out, and waved it through the air. A shimmer of blue fluttered through the air, much like the green magic of Loki and Frigga, and came to encase Loki. He held his breath as the magic slowly wore away at the glamour, one that had become so entrenched in his very being, so strong that Loki too had to join his magic to Farbauti’s, creating an array of colours not dissimilar to that of the Aurora Borealis. 

When the magic finally dissipated, Loki felt as though a weight he was not aware of had just been removed from where it had been intertwined around his ribcage. He did not have to look down or in a mirror to know that he was in his true form for the first time since he had been a newborn. His breath misted in the silent chamber, fogging out and up into the air around him.

“ _Loptr_ …” Farbauti breathed, rising to her feet without truly noticing. Laufey had frozen in his seat, becoming as still as the ice around him, staring at Loki like he was a ghost, and in a way, he was. Farbauti descended from the dais and came to a stop in front of Loki, just half a foot taller than him, and Loki could have sworn that he saw tears in her eyes. Loki also felt the heavy weight of horns upon his head, and thought it was rather ironic that Odin had commissioned his helmet to be horns – then remembered that it was his mother who had come up with the idea. She was still trying to help him, even then.

Her skin was not chilled as Farbauti placed a hand on Loki’s cheek, stroking whatever markings she found there with gentleness he had only ever felt from Frigga. 

“My son… we had thought you dead,” Farbauti uttered, tenderness and warmth threading into her voice.

“Odin took not only the Casket from us that night, but also our first-born,” Laufey said from the back of the room, voice dark and hard. “The two things that mattered the most.” 

At his words, Farbauti slipped her hand to cup Loki’s jaw and the back of his neck, holding him possessively as her eyes went hard and her voice cold enough that a few of the Jötnar around the edges of the room stepped back warily.

“Odin child-stealer, who thought it was his right to take my son away from me, my first born, our future king,” she said, voice shaking with fury. “Asgard will pay for their crimes.”

Loki gently brought his hand up and laid it over the hand she had on his neck, and she looked down to him in shock.

“Asgard had no part in this, nor did it’s people, or Thor or Frigga,” Loki said calmly. “Odin alone is to blame for his treachery, and the toll has already cost him.”

“He has fallen into the Odinsleep…” Laufey mused.

“If Odin did not tell you, then Frigga-queen should have taken up the responsibility herself,” Farbauti said, icy.

“Asgard is not the same as Jötunheim,” Loki said. “She cannot disobey the king, even if he is her husband. Frigga taught me as much as she could – she told me not the nightly stories of terror but of your magnificent culture, of how the Jötnar were a proud, mighty race. She taught me her magic, she taught me how to fight, she commissioned my helmet as a set of golden horns, I imagine to somehow represent what I really am. Frigga, though not related to me, _is_ my mother, and the only person who ever spoke to me with kindness,” Loki argued, voice soft. Farbauti clenched her jaw at Loki’s words and the title of mother.

“She is just as much my mother as you are,” Loki said, and Farbauti’s eyes softened, and she carded her fingers through Loki’s hair in the exact same way that Frigga did.

“At least somebody looked after you the way you should have been,” Farbauti said. Despite their vast physiological differences, Loki could already see the similarities between Farbauti and Frigga, and could imagine them getting along quite well if the situation arose. 

Laufey suddenly rose to his feet, a menacing twelve feet in height, and padded over to where the two Jötnar stood. He looked down at Loki, and traced a finger along the markings on Loki’s forehead, and down the side of his face. Loki could only imagine that they looked like Laufey’s own.

“You are the first-born son of Jötunheim, the future king of our realm, and you have returned to us freely. I can ask for no more,” he said, lips turning up into a small, almost nonexistent smile. “I shall not punish Odin for now, but rest assured, dear wife, that he will pay for his crimes against us.”

Suddenly the doors to the throne room slammed open, and two Jötnar came striding forward, one nine feet, the other eleven feet, and came to a stop in front of the trio. They were almost as elegantly dressed as Farbauti, but it instead made them much more menacing, muscles rippling under scarred blue skin.

“Is it true?” one of them asked. “Has Loptr returned?”

“Yes, Bylsteir, he has returned home. Loki, meet your younger brothers, Bylsteir and Helblindi,” Farbauti introduced, and Loki looked slightly warily up to the huge frost giants that were supposedly his _younger_ brothers.

“He looks just like you, moðir,” Bylsteir said with a grin. 

“He’s tiny,” Helblindi said with a toothy grin that Loki recognized well enough from Thor.

“What he lacks in size he makes up for in his magical abilities,” Farbauti said. “His magic merged with mine in the dissipation of the glamour that Odin placed on him. I have never felt such power in another Jötunn before.”

“He is truly gifted,” Laufey said, pride evident in his voice.

“You can thank Frigga for that,” Loki said. “She taught me everything she knew and more.”

“Perhaps I will give thanks to Asgard’s queen,” Farbauti said thoughtfully. “It has been one thousand years since I have seen your face, and she has raised you as I would have… though perhaps with much more form-fitting clothing,” she said, and Bylsteir and Helblindi burst out into surprised laughter.

Loki himself was struggling to not burst into ridiculous tears. He had fully expected the savage king and queen of Jötunheim to reject him, call him a runt, say that they had abandoned him for a reason, and perhaps even kill him on sight. Yet even after he had slain some of their own they welcomed him with open arms, with laughter and love and _pride_. It was more than he could have ever dreamed of, and perhaps the reflection of a monster in the mirror wasn’t quite as disgusting as he thought it would be.

“Would you like to stay, Loki?” Farbauti asked. “You are more than welcome to remain here and to learn about your heritage, but we will not keep you if you do not want to be here. It is your decision, we will not keep you from your… family.” Loki looked up at her and smiled. 

“I would enjoy learning about who I am.”


End file.
